How Is Jane Thomas Still Alive
by hi i read things
Summary: Kicked out of home and terrified of pokemon, Jane might be the only ten year old in Alola to hope for an uneventful, unadventurous journey where nothing exciting ever happens - but she was never a very lucky girl. Pokemon thieves, serial killers, teenage girls, criminal organizations and vengeful ultra beasts just keep making things tough.
1. fear

_prologue._

She remembers. When she was six her father took her through the gravel path behind their yard to the far field where the tauros grazed. Their tough hard hooves stomped the grass and deep in their chests they rumbled their gravely groans. Blades of grass longer than her legs vanished inch by inch into their maws, twisted between blunt yellow teeth.

Dad pressed a hand to her shoulder. ''You wanna go over, Jane? You wanna pet one?'' He nudged her forwards, not gently.

Jane clung to his arm and planted her feet as best as she could on shaking legs, brown eyes brimming with tears. She squeezed them tightly shut as her face burrowed into his shirt.

Dad squinted in the sun, through the grass, at the bulky brown beasts in the distance. ''They're not like you see on television, Jane. Those things are dangerous. They come over here, they'll trample you, if they don't catch you on their horns.'' She gasped, eyes flying wide as the curved grey prongs glinted metallic in the sun.

It was too easy to see herself speared through, bloodied and shaken about in the air with every toss of their heads, and Jane whimpered. She thought of running. Dad's glinting dark eye froze her bodily.

''Do you still want to pet pokemon?'' She shook her head wildly. ''Will you ask again?'' She shouldn't have. The neighbor's meowth had seemed so soft she'd only-

"No,'' she choked, tugging on his arm. ''Can we go?''

He lumbered over and hoisted her up, propping her against his hip as he brushed away her tears with a firm hand, and they started down the beaten path home. All around them the land was warm and green and smelled fresh as the dawning spring, the tall grass crawling with little mongrels, and twice Father stomped his foot to scare off skittering rattata that sunk away into deep dank ground holes in a flash of purple. She saw caterpies' pink antennae peek through the green, serpentine bugs scaling trees as their suction cups left slimy trails over the bark. Somewhere high above in the flowering branches a pidgey tweeted sunnily, and Dad tensed at the sound, mouth curling into a silent snarl. He bent down awkwardly, Jane braced against his side, and picked up a round grey pebble he bounced in his hand. Then he flung it hard, smacking the tree, narrowly missing the bird that flew up with a squeak. Dad watched it go. Eye skyward, his hand came up to flatten his long bangs over his left eye socket, which was sewed shut, skin pulled taut over nothing.

He never told her why. But Jane would find out, years later, a fearow had plucked out his eye.

She learned it as she and Aunt Mary sorted through all his stuff, stuff she didn't even know he had, like a single rusted badge collecting dust in the bottom of a shoebox. Upon discovery it drew from Auntie the short tale of Dad's brief, ill-fated trainer journey, and then with a quiet sigh the badge was thrown away like so much else. The house was sold to pay off debt, his clothes were given away. Some things like his favorite watch and his guitar, Jane took with her to Mother's, all the way over in Alola, where home was supposed to be now that Dad was dead. He'd passed on Thursday, maybe Friday. Jane didn't know how long he'd help up after the stroke, because Auntie had kept her away from the hospital and told her to watch television and always insisted that Dad would be _fine, just fine, just you wait,_ until she couldn't. Then she took to insisting that Jane would be fine. She'd go stay with her mom and stepfather in Alola and everything would be just fine.

* * *

Hau'oli was a breezy city nestled in Melemele Island by the oceanside, wide streets lined with green palm trees and colorful rooftops. In the afternoons Jane would race out to the marina pier and stare at the foaming waves crawling over the sandy shore, at the wingull flocks flying high, at the far blob of the sun spilling over the ocean its burning reds and melting oranges. Tracing striations of light dappled across rippling waves with her eyes until the world turned dark. Then, feet dragging under her, she'd crawl home, barely in time for dinner. Seven o'clock. Everybody there, half the food gone. Slink into a chair.

They sat, picture imperfect. Jane, quiet, pushing dinner around in her plate. Mother scarfing down her latest odd craving. Sam talking fast as ever through mouthfuls of steak, getting drunker and louder, though the only response he received were whines and growls from the canine under the table. Once in a while her stepfather would pause to throw his lycanroc a scrap, then go off ranting again, about his work, his baby, his political candidates. It made her sick to watch him chew. She kept her eyes low on her plate, half-shut, oh so heavy, and drifted.

''-Jane won't mind. We'll paint it blue, she won't mind, will you, Jane.''

Startled, she looked up and saw the conversation turning to her _._ She opened her mouth, then shut it, gripped by a sinking feeling of wrongness. It felt surreal. They were talking about her.

''How old is she again - ten already? Next week? Right. Baby's due in July, we can paint the room-''

Jane didn't so much mind having a blue room as their sticking a crib in it _,_ crying newborn attached.

''-after she's off.''

She blinked.

''And how, Sam, do you mean for her to go?'' Mother said in a tired voice, shifting her bloated belly heavily in her chair, and pinched the bridge of her nose. ''Tell me."

''Why not? She's almost ten.''

Jane glanced between them with growing alarm, eyes wide as saucers, and had the sinking feeling they'd had this talk before. They hadn't included her.

''Look at the girl! She runs screaming out of the room every time Fang barks, and he's just a tame lycanroc. Can you imagine her on a route _alone?_ With wild pokemon that can attack? And people that can do Arceus knows what-"

''Kids do it everyday. Why is she any different? What are you so worried about, Liz? Plenty of kids do it. I did. Turned out fine, didn't I? And children love these things. Going on a trainer journey! Beating the great island challenge!'' He chuckled heartily, winking over at Jane. She stared back with her mouth agape. Sam reached over and clapped her on the shoulder twice. "Your very own pokemon journey, look at that!"

''I don't have a pokemon,'' she blurted. She'd never had one, never asked for one. She would have thought that disqualified her from any training prospects. Most kids who wanted to go on journeys were well used to handling pokemon, either through family or training school. Not Jane. Dad was adamant she didn't have any contact with the creatures and - Dad was _gone._

And Sam didn't care if she was qualified, or even willing. He waved her off. ''We'll find you something.''

Mother huffed, pushing her plate away. ''And who do you suppose will pay for her starter? Her pokedex, her gear, her pokeballs, all that crap? Are you coming out of pocket, Sam?''

''She doesn't need all that. You know back in the old days we'd catch rattata with a stick and net. And then they'd send us off. Just a boy and his rattata.'' He clapped his knee violently, spitting. ''That's the trouble with kids these days, they're too soft! Too _coddled_. Want fancy lab starters and the newest model pokedex and for what? Run screaming when they see a pikipek.''

Flocks of pikipek could chase down lonely travelers with their ruthless pecking. Jane had seen it on tv.

''But-'' She stopped herself, covering her mouth with a shaking hand, and glanced wordlessly at her mother. Mom didn't look her way, just shuffled in her chair, shaking her head and rubbing her belly, counting the baby's kicks. Her whole body looked bloated, sagging, crumbling under its own weight. What do you want me to do, Jane, it seemed to say.

Take me home, Jane would have said, but Dad was gone, and this wasn't home. That had been clear since the beginning. Since she'd disobeyed Sam and been made to sleep outside.

What do you want me to do, Jane, Mother had said, it's his house, we're just living in it.

And Jane not for long now.

She wasn't mad. Just scared.

''We'll go out and catch her something. There's a spearow nest around here. I can hear the little critters every morning, wake me up bloody early. Fang brought home a dead one the other day. Fang! Atta boy, you want to go hunting with us tomorrow, don'tcha?''

He tossed the lycanroc a scrap of meat and patted his fur roughly, smiling like he was particularly astounded at his own generosity. Fang growled softly and leaned his head into the man's hand, his beady dark eyes watchful and hungry. Whenever Jane met them she always felt profoundly disturbed, like she was a particularly tasteless prey who was only spared for its lack of nutritional value.

Feeling queasy, she excused herself. All she wanted was to sleep the night away and hope morning wouldn't come too soon. Maybe tomorrow he'd have changed his mind. She hadn't much time though: she'd be ten next week.

* * *

NEXT UP: In which a pokemon is caught.

A question for you, reader. **What wild pokemon will Jane, Sam and Fang catch as her starter?** Give it your best suggestion, please. Just has to be a pokemon that can be found on Melemele Island. Other than that, be as creative as you want. No conventional starters.

This is my first time writing a pokemon story and well, I'm hype! Sun/Moon really re-lit my love of the franchise, thus I wanted to do something Alola based. Our heroine (wellll, she's not particularly heroic _yet_ but give her some time...), ahem, our heroine's story takes place some time after the plot of the SunMoon games, some ten years after. A lot will have changed in the meantime, but some things always linger... you'll see. Thanks a lot for reading.


	2. catch

Chapter One - Part One

 **Catch**

She watched the early morning lights peek through her blinders. It felt like she had barely shut her eyes when Sam started pounding on her door.

''Up! Up, up, up!'' He hollered, punctuating each up with a slam.

''I'm up,'' she mumbled, covering her ears, and dragged herself out of bed. It took her fourteen minutes to dress as slowly as she could, hesitating over her father's prized leather watch. With a sigh she glanced at the time. It was early, barely six. She decided to switch her shoes. Then socks. Then -

Sam started yelling.

Smoothing her hair one last time, Jane trotted down the stairs with an excuse boiling in her throat. Fang was waiting at the bottom, splayed out leisurely with his paws in the air and his eyes drooping, and she backtracked as soon as she saw him. ''Um, Sam.''

He didn't look up from his newspaper.

Clearing her throat, she spoke up. ''Sam, could you please - ask him to, um, move? A little?'' By a little, she meant a lot. At least ten feet away.

''Fang!'' He whistled. Then he wiped his hands on his pants and got up, stretching his arms over his head. ''Ready?''

Timidly, Jane asked about breakfast.

''Quit dawdling,'' he waggled a finger in her face.

''I - it's the most important meal of the day.''

''Well, _I've_ had breakfast,'' he scoffed, dumping his dirty dishes into the sink. ''Grab a cereal bar and get going.''

She did so meekly and followed him out the house, out the street, out the city, her anxiety mounting with every step. They walked the better part of an hour without stopping, harder and longer than Jane was used to, and her legs ached awfully, then slowly grew numb and heavy until she felt like she was dragging her ankles around trying to keep up with Sam's stride. She saved the energy her complaints would have cost her and stared at the ground the whole way.

When Fang yipped, she raised her head and glanced about, seeing with surprise they were already well into route... she couldn't tell routes apart, really. It was a beaten dirt trail, wide enough for ten or so men, littered with trash and broken pokeballs and great muddy puddles from yesterday's rain. It bifurcated ahead into two winding paths separated by a mass of greenery, thick brushes glossy with morning dew and lush green trees taller than herself. Only a faint breeze rustled their branches, a murmur of the wind.

''Left or right, Sam?'' Jane asked, inspecting her mud caked boots.

He didn't answer her. ''Fang.''

The lycanroc sniffed the ground in circles over the trail, then suddenly sat up on his hind paws and lifted his head high, breathing in. With a bark he bounded off towards the left hand path, and past it, into the wood itself, and Jane shuddered and followed. Her eyes jumped from tree to tree, feeling the forest close in around her. She'd been a city girl her whole life and -

''Shush, kid,'' Sam said, poking her forehead with an irritable look. Jane frowned, confused. She hadn't said anything. ''You're damn noisy. Break every twig in the way, will you?''

Gulping, she ducked her head and watched her feet. There were twigs _everywhere._ She made a game of counting them and was up to number seventeen when it happened.

Sam pointed at a rustling bush behind her. Baring his teeth, Fang coiled into a silent crouch, his eyes engulfed by an eerie red glow. He reared up and then he lunged, a devastating white blur across the clearing. She felt him pass her, flying, more than saw. He landed with a muffled thud upon the shrub and buried his paws on either side of the caterpie, hovering over the squirming worm with eyes that spelled murder.

''Taunt, then bite!'' Called Sam, whistling. ''Jane, pokeball.''

Fang bared his teeth, red eyes glowing. The caterpie's struggling grew more and more frantic, and from its squealing mouth spurted jets of white, viscous liquid. It sprayed Fang in the chest in short bursts, thick silk threads clinging to the front of his coat. Jane fumbled her hand in her pocket, her fingers shaking like crazy, and threw the ball like she'd been burned. It flew wide and came up short, skidding in the grass. The lycanroc snarled, then snapped his jaws open in a movement so quick, the caterpie was effortlessly caught between his teeth with a meaty crunch before it could scream.

There was only Jane screaming.

Her heart was pounding in her ears _._ Lifeless worm eyes stared, empty and black. Fang's mouth was stained red with caterpie blood.

Sam cursed under his breath. ''Damn, this might be a problem. We've gone hunting plenty, but we never actually tried to _catch_ anything.'' He gave a sigh, flicking his lycanroc an exasperated glance. ''You gotta weaken it without killing, ya hear me?''

Fang didn't react at all. He munched happily on his shredded caterpie without a care in the world. Jane's stomach roiled. She glanced away quickly, studying the twisted roots of a nearby tree.

''-ane! Jane,'' Sam clapped her shoulder heavily, and she flinched. ''What you waiting for? Go get the pokeball. Those things cost money. And _pray_ you ain't break it.''

She gulped. ''I...'' Nodding shakily, she scurried after it and dusted it off on her shirt. It wasn't dented anywhere she could see, and there were no sudden sparks indicating broken circuits, but she turned it over in her hands a long time, feeling its weight.

They went through a pikipek - indignant chirps, wings beating loudly, a squeak - and a rattata - shriek, screech, thud - and she knew better than to look, now. Sam grew more annoyed by the minute. The pokemon of route one, he said, were a bunch of weaklings. Fang was far too trained to have a fight with any of them that wasn't a massacre.

''Can't you just... tell him - not to hurt them?'' Jane asked, and felt stupid. ''Hurt them _too_ much, I mean. Kill.''

He harrumphed and threw her a sour look. ''It's not that simple, kid. When a pokemon's been conditioned for years to fight without mercy, you can't just expect them to change everything and suddenly pull punches. I could get him to understand what I want eventually, but it's trial and error. Takes time. You think training is easy, eh? You'll see when you're out there.''

She didn't want to be out there. If a trainer sometimes couldn't stop their pokemon from - _bloody teeth, dead eyes, crunch_ \- killing _,_ she didn't think she wanted to be one. She only nodded. They trudged on in silence, Fang considerably more sedate now his stomach was full, Sam grumbling as he checked his watch and mumbled about being late for work. Just as she was beginning to hope he'd rule the whole thing a waste of time and call for a retreat, Jane heard a skittering at her right side, then saw a blur scramble out of the foliage, a queer little insect with large curved mandibles like pincers. It was tiny, as tall as her ankles on short white legs, its tawny brown head covered by a cracked orange shell rimmed yellow, round dark eyes watchful behind its twitching orange jaws. Fang snarled.

''It's too little,'' Jane heard herself say weakly, staring at the lycanroc. ''It'll just die too.'' She felt her throat closing up, a growing knot of horror.

Sam snorted dismissively, petting Fang. He was dialing his boss, probably to spin some sad tale about a terrible illness. ''Let's hit route three, this one is a real dump,'' he grumbled, holding his phone to his ear. Fang nuzzled his trainer's leg, then went to piss on a tree.

The grubbin watched them blearily, its jaws twitching, and scuttled past their path, exposing as it turned a great gash on its side that left a red trail on the forest ground. It hobbled its way near her, glancing up with black eyes oddly intent, and Jane blanched, watching it warily. Was it going to attack? Wounded pokemon were unpredictable and dangerous. She backed away from it slowly, scared, and following its stare realized it wasn't looking at her face or any part of her, but at the half-eaten cereal bar sticking out of her pocket. Quickly she took it out and tossed it on the ground away from her.

The insect hobbled to it and caught the plastic wrapper in its jaws, sniffing hungrily. It grunted. Then it convulsed sharply, its whole body jerking, and toppled backwards flat on its back. Jane's eyes widened in alarm. ''Um, Sam. Is there... is there anything in a cereal bar that can poison a pokemon?''

He didn't look her way. ''Yes, Mr. Kekahaloa, I understand - of course, of course, I'll be working to rectify - what? no, Jane - I'm sorry, Mr. Kekahaloa, yes, I see the problem. I'm sure that - of course. Right away - allow me to verify in my archives.'' He pulled the phone away from his face and scowled at her. ''Is it dead?''

Jane stared at the collapsed pokemon, squinting. Its chest rose and fell weakly, but it did not stir. She shook her head no.

He mimed a rough throwing motion at her, mouthing _catch._ ''Indeed, Mr. Kekahaloa, it seems the irregularity - that's Mr. Mahaulu's sector, not mine, sir, regrettably I cannot be held responsible - of course I-''

Jane would have liked to talk this through, raise several objections, perhaps (first of which she did not want to walk close to the grubbin, because what if it woke up and tried to bite her?), but Sam was looking increasingly like he was sucking on a lemon with every word and she didn't dare. Breathing in deep, she clenched her hands around the pokeball and walked stiffly, slowly, until she was standing directly over the collapsed insect. It seemed even tinier up close.

The pokeball was cold in her clammy hands. For a brief, crazed moment, she contemplated tossing it away and running she didn't even know where. Then she let it drop like a dead weight, and there was blinding red beam, then the ball lay in the grass, shaking. With a final jolt, it stilled. Jane made no move to pick it up. She rubbed her hand over her father's watch for comfort, checking the time - 8:34. She blinked, it'd passed quickly.

Wringing her shirt, she stood there, watching Sam dissolve into a hailstorm of apologies. ''Mr. Kekahaloa, I'm sorry - I really am truly sorry... I'll talk to him. Again, I'm sorry. Right away, sir.'' His fist was clenched into a ball in front of him, like he wanted to hit the phone. He turned it off with a snarl and shoved it in his pocket, his face stormy. ''Listen, kid, I gotta go. Fang, boy, return! You catch that thing? Right. I'll go back with you to the city, hurry up. Move. Then you take it to the pokemon center, alright, you know the way? No? Well, ask someone. It's a big building, hard to miss. Shit, I can't be late. Hurry _up,_ Jane.''

She picked the pokeball up gingerly. It felt warm now.

* * *

NEXT UP: In which we learn more about Grubbin and Jane starts an adventure.

Chapter one was originally one big long block of scenes, but I decided to split it into two parts to make it more organized, as well as easier to read. Next up will be part two of chapter one, in which she'll _actually_ set off, I promise.

 **Lebensmude:** Thank you so much for your review, it was very thoughtful! I cleaned up the first paragraph a bit. The beginning part was mostly to show she'd been brought up to fear pokemon, since her wariness of them (and unwillingness to journey) plays a part in the story and I didn't want it to be there just _because._ I do agree with your advice about showing not telling. I adore pichu too, plus alolan raichu is _so_ sweet, and they'll definitely show up in the story, though I ended up deciding to give her an alolan starter.

 **JGameCartoonFan:** Ah, mannn, a wimpod would have been so great. I'd have loved that. And Jane would have freaked out over a rockruff, since they evolve into lycanroc and you know how she feels about Fang xD Cutiefly are really really cute, too, and I was sold on a bug type as her starter since they're fairly common.

 **Fluffyhoshi:** Thanks! Wimpod and Stufful aren't in Melemele Island, sadly. But hey, Grubbin are!

 **RockiDMartinez:** Thanks! I've the next few chapters figured out, so that'll be fun.


	3. ditch

Chapter One - Part Two

 **Ditch**

She'd never been to a pokemon center before. Sam had been right, the bright red pokeball symbol and bold letters announcing P.C. on its front were impossible to miss. The glass doors slid themselves open smoothly as soon as she came near. Inside it was cool and noisy, a wide room with pale yellow floorboards and bright red walls hanging with colorful pictures of pokemon all over. Cozy couches and armchairs were available on either side of it, separated by an aisle leading up to the crisp white counter on the back, behind which bustling nurses in white uniforms smiled polite greetings and took pokeballs for treatment.

The lobby was packed full of trainers, lounging on couches with their noses buried in training magazines, huddled in clusters around the large pokevision screens, lining up for calls in the videophone booth, chattering brightly to other trainers in voices so loud everything became one big wall of noise. Pokemon were everywhere, of all kinds and types and sizes, as trainers proudly showed them off to their peers, comparing specimens and arranging battles.

Suddenly a munchlax's thundering burp broke across the din. Every single head turned - for a moment she could hear a pin drop. Then laughter surged loud and everywhere at once; even the nurses grinned. The munchlax's trainer sunk into his seat, his ears very red.

Feeling a little lost, Jane walked over to counter and waited, awkwardly. She couldn't tell where the line began or ended, and there were so many people crowded around the counter, she wasn't sure how to catch the eye of a nurse. Looking around, a red sign jumped out to her. It spelled out ''EMERGENCY HEALING'' in bold black letters, and as she moved towards it there wasn't any queue. Jane frowned, considering. Grubbin had a cracked shell, a deep wound on its side and fainted over a cereal bar that wasn't (to her best knowledge) toxic. It certainly would have been classed an emergency, had it been human, but maybe pokemon were different. Still, she thought she'd try.

''Excuse me,'' Jane leaned over the counter, drumming her fingers on it nervously.

A nurse looked up at her, eyes sharpening. Unlike the other nurses, she didn't smile. ''How may I help you?''

She held out the pokeball. ''I... Um. Grubbin was wounded, bleeding. Cracked shell. And it fainted. I'm not sure... It's wild caught. Today.''

The nurse simply nodded. ''You may wait in the lobby. I'll update you shortly,'' she said, taking the pokeball off her and vanishing behind the white door. Jane stared after her, waiting. And waiting. It felt like forever, and she was too restless to sit. She waited some more.

Time dragged like nails on a chalkboard. She looked at her dad's watch despondently. It'd been forty-two minutes. Waiting, there was nothing to do, except stare at the others in the lobby - but that was rude - and think about what life would be like after she set off.

The nurse came out quietly, serious and quick. Jane glanced away, her stomach twisting unpleasantly.

''Your grubbin is stable,'' the nurse said, like stable wasn't really a good thing, only bearable. ''She's expected to recover.''

''Um... okay,'' said Jane. Questions bubbled in her throat - _why did Grubbin faint? was it my cereal bar? did she wake up?_ \- but she didn't want to annoy the nurse. She only looked at her expectantly.

The nurse got out a chart and began listing things off, her lips turning down with every word. ''Around two months old. Severely underweight, undersized for her age, occipital shell fractures consistent with indents of trumbeak attacks, stomach germs, various lacerations, near fatal amounts of spinarak poison found in her system - fatal amounts, truly, for her weight. I'm... surprised she survived that.''

"Was it why she fainted?"

''Partly, yes, though head trauma and hunger played a hand.''

That sounded horrible, Jane thought. She'd learned in school about food chains; grubbin were prey favored by trumbeak and gumshoos. But she had never thought things could be so brutal. ''That's... Are forests really that harsh? Is that common?''

''Yes and no. Most don't leave the nest until they're mature enough to protect themselves,'' said the nurse. Jane frowned, thinking. Her confusion must have shown on her face, because the woman gave a sigh. ''Grubbin, especially young grubbin, are known to live near electric types for protection against bird predators. Charjabug mothers in particular are notouriously fierce and quick to shock any who approach their offspring. If your grubbin wandered the forest alone, unable to find food for herself, and constantly harassed by trumbeak, likely she lost her mother too young.''

A cold feeling sank into the pit of her stomach. Jane swallowed. For months after Dad had been gone, she half expected him to show up any day, to take her back from her mother's house. It hadn't really sunk in she'd never see him again until his face began to fade in her memories. Had Grubbin gone looking for her mother? It was hard to be forced to grow up; she couldn't imagine if she'd been alone in a forest, starving. ''When - how did Grubbin lose her?''

''Who knows? Either caught or killed,'' said the nurse dispassionately, ticking things off her chart. ''Any questions? She'll be ready to go in three or four hours, though I'd recommend keeping her from anything too strenuous for the next few days.''

''Um, I... what should I... are grubbin very fierce creatures? Should I keep her in her pokeball? Do you think she might get violent?''

The nurse raised her eyebrows. ''How long have you been a trainer for?''

Jane looked down, flushing. ''I start in six days. I'm turning ten.''

''I see. We could have her cleared for battle in six days, maybe. It's doable, but she'll need additional care. Bring her here every day at noon and ask for Genevieve Joy - that's me, by the way,'' she scribbled down on her chart. ''As for your concerns, grubbin are generally pacific creatures. They live in burrows on the ground, feeding mostly on tree sap and berries. However, their mandibles are quite developed and bite down if threatened or hungry.''

''Um, they aren't really strong, right?'' She glanced up hopefully.

''Strong enough to take off a few fingers, if you're not careful. And after they learn crunch - there's been reported cases of people who lost arms.''

Jane blanched. ''Ah... that's...''

''As her trainer, it's your responsibility to train her to bite and release things on command,'' continued Nurse Genevieve calmly, uncaring of her discomfort. ''Keeping her well fed and exercised is your best bet to curb any aggressive instincts.''

''How - how do I do that?''

The nurse gave her a long measuring look, then sighed. ''Twice a day, take her to a tree for feeding, supplement diet with berries. Light exercise is recommended. Leave her out the pokeball for no more than forty minutes at a time, preferrably in an open space so she can burrow and unburrow - if you encounter any wild pokemon, recall her, we don't want her getting into fights just yet. And don't forget to bring her for her daily checkups over the next week, we can address any difficulties you may have then.''

Overwhelmed, she could only nod. Nurse Genevieve made Jane recite the instructions back at her, to make sure she got everything. Then she vanished behind the white door again, and Jane was back to waiting.

She was so absorbed in thought she wouldn't have noticed someone come up after her, if not for the stench. The boy was covered in mud. His shirt was torn at the sleeve and his head dripped a trail of blood from his hairline to his cheek. Jane's eyes widened, and she couldn't look away quick enough that he caught her staring. His face was serious, but young, he couldn't have been more than three years older.

''Hey, are you in queue?''

''I - The nurse already saw me,'' she muttered, stepping away to let him through. ''You... are you alright?''

''Yeah, my garchomp's really banged up though. Think we punched bit above our weight. Good battle, though.''

''Oh... Will it be alright?''

''Yep,'' he said with complete, unmovable confidence. ''She's tough.''

''Were you, um, doing a trial?'' If the trials left you looking like that, she didn't know what awaited her. She'd thought captains were supposed to be _humane_ with newbies.

He shook his head, to her relief. ''Nah, I was trying my hand at catching the tapu.''

''But that's stupid,'' said Jane, flushing when she realized she'd called him stupid to his face. ''The tapu is the god of the island, he's really strong.''

''I'm strong too,'' he said with a slow smile, unflappable, ''semi-finalist in the Sinnoh Conference, Simon Newell, yours truly.'' He gave a small bow.

 _Oh._ ''But it's still,'' stupid, she didn't say, ''the tapu does lots of things for the island, you can't just take him from the people. If a foreigner -''

''Foreigner? You don't sound like a native yourself, you know.''

''Moved here two years ago. I know a bit about the culture. Trust me, you don't wanna go around saying you wanna catch the tapu. People'll be - just don't.''

He raised his hands placatingly. ''Alright, I guess.''

They went quiet for a while. Jane looked at him out of the corner of her eye. ''But you still wanna try?''

''Sure do,'' Simon said, smiling, ''just need more pokemon.''

* * *

She hovered nervously by the kitchen door, wringing her shirt. ''Mother,'' she ventured, ''could I please borrow your oven mitts?''

''Are you going to ruin them?''

A pause. ''...Yes,'' she said honestly.

Mother arched her eyebrows at her. ''You're not doing a very good job selling the deal, Jane.''

She shrugged, flushing.

''They're in the bottom left drawer.''

''Thanks,'' she said, snatching them quickly. They were very thick and too large for her hands, colored the most hideous shade of neon orange she'd ever seen. They were perfect.

The first time she let Grubbin out she did not know what to expect. It was in the yard, opposite to her, and she especially dragged several plant vases and chairs to act as a barrier between them. In hindsight, she'd been expecting too much. Grubbin merely scuttled around curiously for quite a while, without paying her much mind. She did not approach her until Fang came out, fast and snarling.

''I know, I'm scared of him too,'' she'd whispered to her, smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring way, as the little bug scuttled behind her legs to hide from the lycanroc. Jane took out her pokeball and recalled her quickly. It was made clear by the nurse anything bad that happened was her responsibility, and she didn't trust Fang, or Sam to contain him, as far as she could throw them. So she'd had to be selective and make sure to only let Grubbin out when it was safe, while still having her get enough exercise and -

She let her out again, in the city park, where they ran about looking for palm trees for the insect to feed on – and Grubbin was _picky._ There were trees she'd completely refuse to even touch, others it was nigh impossible to pry her off from. Jane tried to remember which ones she liked best. She'd bring a book with her and read as the bug played in the dirt, constantly interrupted to make sure she didn't go off too far and didn't bother any other people or their pokemon. Grubbin also had to be taken to the pokemon center once a day, where Nurse Genevieve would sternly appraise her, pronounce her much improved and lecture Jane on her many responsibilities as a trainer.

Owning a pokemon was a great deal of work, she'd found. She couldn't understand how the kids at school thought it was _fun_ and _exciting,_ like a toy. Nothing remotely _exciting_ had happened yet, which she was thankful for, but it was nerve-wracking sometimes to wonder if she was doing things right, if Grubbin liked her well enough. She couldn't help herself from twitching nervously everytime the bug's jaws flexed, and she'd had this one nightmare where Grubbin was ten feet tall and wanted to eat her, though come morning the little insect was skittering around as tiny and harmless as ever. Still, the troubling notion stayed with her - if Grubbin bit anything or anyone, Nurse Genevieve had warned, she'd have to pay damages. Sam would be sending her little, if any, money after she left. Jane was expected to win battles to earn her keep, and as she had never battled and fully expected to lose horribly, she couldn't afford any damages.

Which brought her to this moment. She'd climbed more trees to pick berries these past three days than she had her whole life. Now she carried a sack heavy with them and, scouting out a secluded spot in the park, plopped it down beside herself as she sat cross-legged on the grass. ''Grubbin,'' she called.

''Bin?'' She unburrowed and tilted her head at Jane, as if to say _we're going back already?_

''We,'' Jane announced brightly, ''are going to play a game.''

''Gru,'' she said, waiting. ''Bin bin gru?''

Breathing in, Jane slid on the hideous orange oven mitts, flexing her hands clumsily to get used to the weight of them. Then, slowly, she stretched out one hand in front of Grubbin's face. ''Vice grip,'' she said, trying to not to flinch when the jaws latched on to her wrist. Opening the bag, she held a berry out on the other hand. ''Release.''

Grubbin blinked at her. Jane counted backwards to five and tried not to scream. She shook the berry a little to call her attention to it. ''R-release.''

Slowly, Grubbin loosened her hold, mouth clicking. Jane all but tossed her the persim berry, pressing a hand to her chest as she leaned back, relieved. The game went on in much the same way. She'd hold out a hand, command her to vice grip, and then get her to release in exchange for a berry.

She was met with indifferent results half the time, because often Grubbin would simply refuse to pincer her hand, rolling around as if bored. As she held out an oran berry in her right hand, dangling her left hand in front of her, Grubbin just nuzzled it. ''Are you not hungry anymore?'' Jane wondered. She tried for a while, to no avail. Frustrated, she tossed the berry back in the bag and decided to take a break.

After dozing off a little, she snatched a berry and held out her hand. Grubbin clamped down on it. Jane narrowed her eyes at the pokemon, who blinked innocently back at her. What had changed, that made her suddenly compliant? Was it her posture, her tone of voice? Hadn't she been firm enough? A pattern of sorts began to form, but she dismissed it. Grubbin couldn't possibly be doing it on purpose.

Fifteen minutes later, there were no persim berries left and the orans were getting her nowhere fast. Jane reeled as realization struck. Grubbin had been playing her - she'd broken down the rules of the game, understood what she could get from it, and shrewdly conditioned her compliance to the offer of her favorite berries.

Jane gaped at her. She'd always known pokemon were intelligent creatures with dangerous powers, but she'd never realized they could have - well - personality.

''I think,'' she said thoughtfully, ''I'll call you-'' She stilled. It seemed important for some reason. Permanent. She wouldn't be able to change it. Many good names crossed her mind, Nina, Hadley, Viola, Heather, Emilia, but she held out for the perfect one. Nothing seemed brilliant enough, and she gave up. ''Maribel. I had a doll called Maribel when I was little,'' she shrugged, uninspired.

Maribel burrowed playfully into the dirt, tittering a laugh.

* * *

Her tenth birthday dawned cold and gray. Mother helped her pack and saw her off at the door, looking her over with sad dry eyes. ''Stay on the route, Jane. Don't go off the trail. You have a map and a flare gun, so if anything happens-''

''I know,'' said Jane, nodding. She slid quietly out the door. When she looked back, it'd already closed after her.

With a sigh, she moved slowly, looking around at Hau'oli with new eyes - this early, everything was quiet and still, and very few people crossed her path. Only a lone magikarp salesman accosted her near the docks. Jane simply smiled, apologetic, without stopping to hear him. She said goodbye to the city in her head, nearing the exit. Like every new trainer, she was expected to move to Iki Town, which was the biggest training hub in Melemele Island, to get her feet wet on some battles. After she'd gotten some practice and levelled her pokemon enough, it would be time to challenge the Trial Captains, Ilima and Hau. Jane shook her head, refusing to think of her impending failure. The success rates for new trainers were not encouraging - one in three.

The route was quiet and green. She walked slowly, kicking pebbles here and there, as she kept an eye out for the north exit. That was the one that led to Iki Town, she knew. Hopefully there'd be a sign, but she kept her map in hand just in case. She was halfway through the dusty trail, frowning up at the grey clouds overhead, when she heard a voice.

''Alola,'' it called, ''is there anyone out there.''

Blinking, Jane froze. She stepped back, faltering.

''Alola!''

Looking around, she saw nobody. Only trees, and a lone ledyba buzzing by.

Tentatively, she called out. ''Alola?''

''What?''

''I said alola.''

''Who are you?''

Jane blinked. ''...Well, _I_ should be asking you that.''

''Speak up!''

She floundered. ''Who are you? Come out. Show yourself!''

''Can't. Listen, I'm sort of stuck. Can't you come here?''

''Wh-what? Where _are_ you?''

''In a ditch.''

A pause. ''Excuse me?''

''It's not a very nice ditch. Wouldn't recommend it.''

''But _why_ are you there?''

''Oh, that's a story. See, this nasty little pikipek tried stealing my lunch. I jumped on the stupid thing and snatched it back - and I could totally take him - but then a whole bunch of them showed up, like, the whole family, and they gathered round me and I was like _come at me_ , and they all started beating their wings and _whoosh,_ and I fell down over here. I think I busted my ankle on the way down.''

''Do you need help?''

''Course not.''

Jane frowned. ''But you said you twisted your ankle?''

''That? Pfft. It's only a flesh wound. I got it all under control.''

''Alright,'' she said slowly, starting to move on.

''W-wait,'' cried the voice, sounding flustered, ''listen, can't you come here? I mean, not that I need to be _rescued_ or anything, but just... you know, if you held out a branch or anything, I wouldn't _mind._ I mean, it's just being a decent person, right? Anybody would do it. You seem like a nice kid.''

''But you said you didn't...'' she mumbled, baffled.

The voice went on. ''Look, I got some money on me. What you want, ten bucks? How about five?''

Jane was too confused to speak.

''Damn, you drive a hard bargain. Twenty poké and a free coupon to - OW! OW! Shit.''

Panic fluttered in her stomach. Eyes wide, Jane looked around frantically, trying to discern which way the sound came from. ''Are you okay?''

''Just fine,'' yelled the voice, sounding anything but. ''I'm - Ouch! Damn little - ow. I CAN'T -'' It cut off suddenly, silenced.

Heart leaping up to her throat, Jane made the first mistake in what would be a series of unfortunate events.

She went off the trail, running.

* * *

NEXT UP: In which Jane gets into trouble.

A question for the readers - can you give me your worst (or best) case scenario for Jane running after the voice in the ditch? I've already got something planned out, but I'm really curious to see your guesses.

 **lola18375:** It's not so much Fang's particularly savage (though as a midnight lycanroc, he kinda is), but also that Sam's been hunting with him (to kill) since he was a pup.

 **kazikamikaze24:** thank you!

 **ayee:** grubbin are actually bug types, but they evolve into electric, hehe.


End file.
